The house was no longer part of Daniel’s estate either.
It belonged to Ellis Holdings.
My company.
A company created with the inheritance I received from my father thirty-seven years ago.
The same inheritance Daniel had refused to touch when we were young because he said, “Your father left that to you. We build ours together.”
For decades, the money sat mostly unnoticed, invested, reinvested, quietly growing while the machine shop became the visible center of our lives.
Three months before Daniel died, we used it.
Not to hide assets.
To protect them.
From exactly what had happened that morning.
Ruth folded her hands.
“Margaret, I need you to understand something before we proceed.”
“I do.”
“Once I notify Brandon’s counsel, the temporary management authority he believes he has is
suspended.”
“Yes.”
“The bank will freeze any extraordinary transfers.”
“Yes.”
“And if he has already attempted to sell, pledge, or encumber business assets—”Business valuation services
“He tried yesterday.”
Everyone looked at me.
I pulled another item from my bag.
A folded printout.
Daniel’s old bookkeeper, Nancy, had emailed it before Brandon confiscated my phone.
A proposed line of credit.
Four million dollars.
Secured against the company’s equipment and receivables.
Brandon had submitted it less than twenty-four hours after his father’s funeral.
Sam’s hand flattened on the table.
“That bastard.”
I flinched.
Not because the word was wrong.
